SEA TO SEA

We have had a very enjoyable 3 day trip around the Beecroft Peninsula, Jervis Bay.
Please click here to see the trip report:

http://sea--to--sea.blogspot.com/

River of wind

It's fascinating to see how local weather conditions owe their characteristics to the influence of regional weather systems. Today a large High pressure cell is centred over the Indian Ocean, extending a protruding ridge eastwards over the Australian landmass and combining forces with a series of deep Low pressure cells that are peeling off Antractica (See chart above).
The magnificent effect of this arrangement, stretching over many thousands of kilometres of the Great Southern Ocean, is a river of west-sou-westerly wind that tears the harbour's surface into a field of white sea-horses. This is a great scenario for the kayaker with a sail.

Beating a path to windward and into the teeth of 35 knot wind gusts.

Tony's kayak buried in white water.

Paddling into the relative calm of the Clark Island wind shadow to ...

hoist sail and ...

... catch this river of wind.

Sail under full pressure, carving a path towards Shark Island.

We tucked into In the lee of Shark Island where the wind was roaring through the palms like an angry lion. Three times we beat a windward path up to Clark Island and then three times we sailed back to the east.

On the second trip to the lee side of Shark Island (while a particularly violent gust swept across the harbour) we had the opportunity to reach into the clear water beneath our kayaks and extract a pair of sea urchins. Cutting through the spiny shells and extracting the urchin roe we sampled this delicacy in its raw state. Although it looks entirely unappetising the roe is incredible. It's like eating the ocean as the tiny eggs erupt in the mouth. This gastronomic experience is not at all surprising to the Italians and Japanese who have been enjoying sea urchins for many centuries. The NSW Dept of Primary Industries permits a bag limit of 10 sea urchins per person.

Yep, it looks kind of like possum shit after a rainy night but the taste is truelly magnificent.

Energised by the sea urchin roe, Tony cranks the sail right back and propels his kayak along a reaching tack.

By 9am the river of wind was turning into a gentle stream.
(In this photo the climbing sun fortuitously picks out a spot instrumental to Tony's future.)

Looking a little weather-blown and salt encrusted Luke set up both sails to do the work for the trip homewards. A fabulous winter's day.

Before you go, here's an excellent recipe to try using sea urchin roe:

Scallops with Sea Urchin Butter.

See ya!

And check out these videos from Tony's deck ...

Video 1

Video 2

One perfect day ...

Destination North Head.

Tony feels something heavy on the end of the line ...

... dinner.

Peter leading the way into Salmon Cove.

The eroded volvanic dyke of Spring Canyon.

Peter had to leave the adventure early and dash home to carve the Sunday roast.

Into the Pacific.

Derek exploring the kelp.

Looking for a certain shellfish ...

From sea to mountain ...

Room with a view.

On the way back down we leafed through the geological folio at the cliff's base

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A distinctive zone of darker strata reveals many fossils.

Glossopteris : an extinct seed fern that lived alongside ice sheets in the supercontinent of Gondwana around 265 million years ago.

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This cliff face represents 200-300 million years of deposition.

We scambled around the small headland to the north of Salmon Cove to find ...

... an inland sea !

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Some of the rudely disturbed locals ...

This is a shell-less marine snail in a small pool of exceptionally clear water.

With life comes death. This large octopus was taken from its rock pool and ended its days pan-fried in crushed garlic and red chillis. What is the consequence of this fairly innocent action? How will this rock pool be changed by the departure of a single animal - itself a hunter of other animals? The variables are too great to predict an outcome but we can be sure that change has been brought upon this rock pool by our visit today.

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Climbing the cliff face with octopus.

As we prepared to leave Salmon Cove a tall three-masted ship made an unexpected appearance from behind the cliffs, like a cardboard cut-out entering a theatre stage from the wings.

The ship's metaphorical qualities as an agent of sudden change for this ancient continent did not go un-noticed.

Some moments before this apparition we had stowed into our kayaks fossilized leaves that had fallen from their branches 250+ million years ago when Australia was locked into a Gondwanan embrace with South Africa, South America, India, New Zealand and Antarctica. It is remarkable how much humans have affected the natural environment in just a fraction of this vast time. Today's innocent exploration of a relatively untouched part of Sydney's coastline was accompanied by this sense that we had invaded a little piece of the natural universe.

Paddling back to the Metropolis.

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Nocturnal 2

Nocturnal

Paddling at night is nothing new. People have been doing it on Port Jackson for 10,000 years or more. A Joseph Lycett painting (above) from the early 1800's depicting the locals fishing by torch light.

Now the view looks like this ... Paddling towards the Harbour Bridge.

The laughing mask of Luna Park, aflame with electric light.

Mask reflection.

Tony and Luke's nocturnal odyssey.

The highlight of this very enjoyable night paddle was the homeward leg - sailing down the harbour at 11pm and under a starry sky.

Ancient Mariner

A gorgeous mid-winter's day as Tony heads out to sea alone ...

... with the Tasman Sea rolling across south reef and into the bulwark-like cliffs of South Head.

Experience has now taught us two things:

Austalian salmon are often lurking around the Heads and they like attacking the "Xmas tree" lure.

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Less common is the sight of Albatross gathering so close to the coast.

The presence of these masters of the ocean skies within sight of the continent's shoreline may be indicative of some unusual phenomenon out to sea. Perhaps an approaching cell of severe weather. Perhaps a lack of pelagic fish offshore. As with most natural behaviour there would be some deeper reasoning underpinning it.

Or perhaps it's just easy mid-winter pickings along the east Australian coastline. These Black-browed Albatross (Thalassarche-melanophris) are feeding on the carcass of a cuttlefish. Click here to see many more of the vast Albatross family.

The view over the stern as Tony leaves the sea to the Albatross.

Eora

This sketch is the earliest known rendering of Eora people in canoes ...

It was drawn in 1770 by Tupaia, a Polynesian who was onboard Cook's "Endeavour" when it sailed into Botany Bay. The sketch depicts one of the men spear fishing from his canoe. The sketch was drawn along the southern shore of Botany Bay.
"Details in his painting show the wooden spacers and tied ends of the typical bark canoes used at that time in what is now the Sydney coastal area." (Tupaia's Sketchbook / K.V Smith)

Above is a sketch from an unknown artist depicting an Eora woman and her child in a canoe. (Start 'em young, I say)

"In August 1788, 67 canoes, carrying 94 men, 34 women and nine children, were counted around the (Sydney) harbour, despite the fact that it was the season in which they make their new Canoes, and large parties were known to be in the woods for this purpose'.(An Historical Journal - John Hunter,1793).

Conclusion: paddle craft were here first, maaaaaaaaate.

Angophora Costata

Continuing the indigenous theme, this afternoon's dash across the harbour was to collect seeds from perhaps Sydney Harbour's most beautiful tree species - Angophora Costata - otherwise known as Sydney Red Gum.

Angophora Costata is particularly common on Hawkesbury sandstone where it forms almost pure stands. The genus Angophora is closely allied to Corymbia and Eucalyptus (family Myrtaceae) but differs in that it usually has opposite leaves and possesses overlapping, pointed calyx lobes instead of the operculum or lid on the flower buds of eucalypts. (Australian National Botanic Gardens)

Angophora costata

Angophora : from two Greek words, meaning 'vessel' or 'goblet', and 'to bear or carry', referring to the shape of the fruits;

Costata : ribbed; the capsules bear prominent ribs.

One of the extracted seeds from the capsule which I will attempt to germinate. Apparently germination takes two to three weeks.

When we live in a place with such beautiful endemic flora (that incidentally also supports the local birdlife) it is maddening that so many apparently sane people stuff their gardens with exotic camellias, frangipannis and jacarandas.

Archipelago

There is a chain of eleven islands strung out along the spine of the harbour.
For the most part, these islands sit idly dormant in Sydney's collective consciousness and in various states of post-industrial dereliction.
A couple of the islands have been "towed" back to the mainland by land bridges. And one or two of the islands retain indigenous Sydney bushland on their sloping faces.


The harbour as calm as it ever gets.
Above and below the surface at Five Dock where this morning's journey commenced ...


Striking out towards the eastern horizon.

Rodd Island.

(Local idigenous name unknown)

Snapper Island.

(Ar-ra-re-agon)

Spectacle Island
(Gong-ul)

Cockatoo Island

(Wa-rea-mah)

Crossing to the north side of the harbour at Birchgrove.

Berry Island

(Local indigenous name unknown)

An old local on its last legs.

Goat Island
(Me-mil)

Most of the changes wrought upon the harbour environment by humankind are appaling. This great arch is one of the few magnificent exceptions.

Paddling through a forest of turpentine tree trunks that form the supporting structure for wharves at Millers Point.

Drifting beneath the suspended deck of the Harbour Bridge.

Pinchgut Island
(Mat-te-wan-ye)

Garden Island
(Ba-ing-hoe)

Clark Island

(Bil-long-ololah)

This island was carefully restored with indigenous species in the 1970's by the Sydney landscape architect Bruce MacKenzie.

"Bruce Mackenzie pioneered the use and conservation of indigenous Australian planting that made use of natural structural materials and native plants, combining a romantic attachment to landscape aesthetics with a pragmatic approach to conservation. He is considered one of the foremost practitioners of the 1970s and 1980s in the promotion of landscape design that respected and harmonized with natural environments. Significantly his first article extolling the use of native plants was published in 'Architecture in Australia' in November, 1966. "

(Heritage Branch NSW)

Shark Island

(Bo-am-billy)

Pausing briefly at Shark Island.

The eastern end of the archipelago ...

Bottle & Glass Island
(Mo-ring)

A bird's eye view of this morning's paddle.
Starting in the west ...

... and finishing 20 kms later in the east.

There is much to explore at each of these islands - from large-scale industrial wharves, abandoned buildings and rusting machinery to the gems of native bush rock and twisted angophoras. The trip along this "archipelago" deserves much more time than we could afford today. A good reason to do it all again.

Leave no footprints ...

Previously we've made brief references to the people who have been paddling their craft across Sydney Harbour for many millenia.
Here's a little more information ...


View in Port Jackson, 1789 by T. Prattent
"This saltwater scene in Port Jackson shows Aboriginal men, women and children in bark canoes. Women fished with handlines and 'crescent-shaped lures' that were ground and chipped from shells. Fires burning in the canoes were used to cook fresh fish and mussels, which they spat into the water to attract fish."
(State Library of New South Wales Catalogue)

Other than burning the landscape from time to time to flush out animals, these original harbour-dwellers left few marks on their physical environment.

A few traces of their existence are found in a handful of evocative rock engravings that were incised into sandstone shelves around the harbour's edge.

The images below are hand-sketches (drawn in the year 1845 by two Europeans) of rock carvings observed at South head, Middle Head, and at Point Piper depicting whales, sharks, fish, kangaroos, wallabies, hand tools, shields and people.

The profiles of sharks and large fish at Middle Head.

Rock wallabies and a fish at South Head.

Hand tools, fish, wallaby and shield at South Head.

Large fish, a sea bird and hand tools at Point Piper.

Shield and fish at Point Piper.

Dancing figures at Point Piper.

Kangaroo and more hand tools at Point Piper.

Shamefully, the carvings at Point Piper are now all destroyed.

A foray in pursuit of whales.

The annual winter migration of southern hemisphere whales from Antractica to warmer seas is well underway. A stream of them is passing by Sydney's coastline now.

Optmistic of seeing this annual procession we paddled out through the Heads and into a brilliant dawn.

At South Reef a Mackeral leapt into Tony's lap.

Peter paddling out through the Heads with a dramatic ledge of cloud consuming the background.

Derek and the Sphinxes.

Jules scanning the eastern horizon for whales.

Within minutes we had seen a dozen blasts of exhaled spray and the striking profiles of humpback dorsal fins cresting the surface about 600-800m away from us. We paddled on.

Out to sea, pairs of Albatross were elegantly sweeping the sea's surface for prey.

Rafting up for hot chocolate.

A sea shower.

Encouraged by Tony's sighting of a whale doing a spectacular full vertical breach (no accompanying photo) about 1000m to the north of our position we continued on to a point about 3.5kms east of North Head. However after a short while of scanning all horizons it was apparent that there were no more whales making their way up this section of the coast anytime soon.

We pointed our kayaks towards the coastline and made our way back to the harbour...

Above is the southern contingent's track of this morning's short foray in pursuit of whales. You can see where we all paused to drink hot chocolate (east of North Head) and consequently drifted southwards with the current and wind, before paddling a bit further to the north-east. The total distance travelled on this particular track was a modest 7.1 nautical miles (13km).

The sea surface temperature was beautifully warm for cold hands to dip into ...

... but it's apparent that the East Australian Current is breaking down for winter and that colder water lies ahead of us.

Winter arrives

Sailing across the harbour under a low June sun ...

... to the east side of Bradley's Head.

One of the many enjoyable things about kayaks is their capacity to engage with a range of sea and landscapes of contrasting scales. You can paddle out many kilometers offshore and experience the immense vastness of broad open ocean and enveloping sky. Or you can drift into a small cove and access the shore, where few other marine vessels can, to observe details at a micro scale. Today's wander across the harbour falls into the latter category.

Just above the shoreline, communities of reddy-orange, lime-green, dusty-grey and sulphorous-yellow lichen have colonised the exposed sandstone. Interestingly, lichen can only survive where the atmosphere is relatively free of airborne pollutants so its presence is one indicator that an environment is in good health .

A quick snorkel below the shoreline reveals other interesting lifeforms.

The shell of an abalone - Haliotis coccoradiata

A Cowry shell - Cypraea erosa.

And, tucked under a ledge, the brilliant orange of an octopus.

Okay, it's not quite a Beluga whale but never-the-less this octopus was taken home and carved up to feed the adult members of the tribe.

The Bradley's Head octopus was thrashed forty times on a rock to soften it up before being cooked with freshly chopped chilli, ginger and garlic.

And then cut up into smaller sections to be eaten with a Wasabe, soy and fresh ginger dipping sauce ...

and a couple of glasses of sauvignon blanc.

Some post-lunch thoughts on the philosophy of kayaking:

A kayak, like a shoe, is just an implement.

The kayak itself is not significant.

It is where you allow the kayak to take your mind that matters most.

Origins

Kayaking was not always the recreational activity of the middle-class / middle-aged.

The origins of kayaks are as efficient hunting tools, necessary for the survival of the tribe ...


Masautsiaq Eipe sits in his kayak.
He puts on his mittens before paddling off to hunt.
(Qaanaaq. NW Greenland)

Several Inuit hunters in kayaks return to shore in a line, towing a Narwhal they have harpooned.
(Qaanaaq. NW Greenland.)

Inuit in a kayak with a Beluga white whale he has harpooned.
(Inglefield Bredening. NW Greenland)

Inuit Hunters butchering a Narwhal at the floe edge.

It was harpooned from a kayak.

(Qaanaaq. NW Greenland.)

Inuit Hunters having a break after butchering a Narwhal on the sea ice.

(Qaanaaq. NWGreenland.) Above images from Arctic Photo

Don't try this at home.

Mid-autumn passage to Shelly Beach

Sailing down the harbour and into the dawn.

Peter paddling northwards as the sun clears the eastern horizon.

Derek paddling into the face of a wave as it wraps around the Bower .

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Under the surface Tim spots a spectacular cuttlefish ...

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While observing this beautiful and apparently intelligent creature in its natural habitat one part of the consumptive mind wonders what it would taste like when pan-fried in olive oil and garlic.

A remarkable inhabitant of the city's edge.

Indigenous wanderings Part 1

A beautiful autumn morning was spent exploring sandstone ledges, above and below the water ...

Tucked away beneath the cantilevering ledge of a bush cave it was not that surprising to find an aboriginal midden - brimming with the shells of mussels, oysters and large abalone. It is easy to imagine indigenous families sheltering here and feasting on shellfish gathered at the harbour's edge.

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A quick snorkel along the underwater ledges was highlighted by finding two Cowrie shells - in this instance, relatively large examples of this species for Sydney Harbour. This type of shell was prized by indigenous peoples all around the Pacific for its ornamental qualities and often incorporated in decorative necklaces and as adornments to some tools. Perhaps somewhere in the Sydney bush, tucked beneath a ledge, there lies an Eora necklace or someother relic of indigneous existence.

Indigenous wanderings Part 2

With the morning evolving into a beautiful afternoon, a second short passage over the harbour was undertaken and, by reference to an old photograph, the aim was to locate and observe indigenous rock carvings at a small beach ...

Shovels and a bucket are uncommon additions to this afternoon's kayaking apparel.

The photograph above (taken in the 1940's) shows the carvings that are to be found on a tessellated rock platform beneath a bed of sand on a beach - that shall remain nameless here to preserve its further rude intrusion by people just like us.

Excavating trenches across the beach to locate the carvings ...

... concludes many blisters later without the carvings being found, but with their location perhaps narrowed to a smaller area that can be excavated on another occasion.

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Behind "Carving Beach" is the swollen hump of another large midden. Here a couple of oyster shells from the top surface of the midden are shown - representative of the last meals that the indigenous inhabitants of Sydney Harbour ate before being swept away by a tide of disease and dispossession.

Autumn afternoon

With a small window of opportunity in the afternoon a quick trip was taken to Bradleys Head to snorkel over the sea garden ...

... where many small tropical fish are enjoying the autumn conditions.

Curious inscription on a sandstone shelf.

Nature's coda.

Local lichens.

The approach of an afternoon thunderstorm.

With a vortex.

And a spectacular rainbow spanning from Shark Island to Felix Bay.

Looking for Kingies

A paddle around the centre of Port Jackson on the trail of Kingfish ...

Sailing over to Shark Island in a light westerly.

That's not a Kingie.

Trolling along the east side of Bradleys Head.

Towards Clifton Gardens.

The Kingies have given us the slip.

A handful of local scallop shells.

Angophora.

Hawkesbury sandstone

Banksia

Heron.

The Westerly freshening for the paddle home.
No Kingies today.

Angophora Bay

The temptation with kayaking is to chase the furthest horizon.

However, often the closest trips to home are the best ...

Tucked away from the harbour's main channel is this quiet bay, framed by Angophoras and outcrops of weathered sand stone.

The water is clear and warm.

Burrowed beneath rock ledges were the cat-like eyes of many juvenile octopii, crouching and braced to pounce on the passing marine traffic.

Turning the tables, the above octopus was taken on a kayak trip ...

... and cooked up with garlic, chilli, olive oil and basil.

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Tributary

Sydney Harbour is a deep water estuary.

Around 18,000 years ago, at the height of the Last Glacial Period, the polar ice caps were at their peak volume and the planet's sea level was at a corresponding low. At this time, a river ran along the bottom of Sydney's present harbour. This river ran out to a sandy coastline which was approximately 15 km to the east of the present coastline and up to 120 m below the present sea level.

As the earth's climate warmed (and the polar ice-caps consequently melted) the sea level rose and spread, flooding the river valley and turning it into an estuary / harbour.

Today the shoreline of Sydney Harbour and its branching tributaries is characterised by a rocky shoreline broken by small sandy beaches, vast rock platforms and weathered sandstone cliffs.

Sydney Harbour's geology is principally composed of sandstone formed during the Triassic period (about 220 million years ago).

Text above transposed from the Australian Museum website.

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Image above from the Australian Museum.

Orange = Sandstone

Grey = Shale

Pale yellow = Loose alluvial

This morning's short adventure by kayak was up one of the Harbour's more interesting tributaries - Middle Harbour to Roseville Bridge.

With a deep low pressure system rotating clockwise off the east coast and a high rotating anti-clockwise in the Southern Ocean this morning, a Sou-south westerly was rushing between these two pressure cells and across the Harbour in gusts of 20 to 25 knots.

As we paddled into the subdued dawn light the harbour was a torn grey and white river of breaking waves and spray.

In the image above Tony and Luke raced across the harbour's messy surface with the large V-sails bent side-ways by the strong wind. The wind strength proved too great, however, snapping one of Tony's woven kevlar mast poles like a dry twig.

Not to worry - Tony wrapped his sail away and hooked into a young Bonito in calmer waters along the inside of Middle Head ...

... where Jules was quietly celebrating his return to the harbour.

Jules and Derek paddling into the Middle Harbour tributary, beneath Grotto Point.

And Peter using sailpower ...

... to reel them in.

Our kayak flotilla travelling up the flooded tributary towards Bantry Bay ...

... with Tim (at right) appearing from the Spit.

Mimicking our passage in slow motion, a cloud of Moon Jellyfish (more often referred to as Jelly Blubbers) were observed drifting along near the Roseville Bridge. Here's an interesting little article on these harbour invaders :

http://www.ccrc.unsw.edu.au/news/news/2005-08-30_jellyfish.html

Aeolian weathering has exposed this spectacular example of Sydney sandstone strata and the varying intensities of iron oxide concentration laid down with it many millenia ago. An example of the mutability of physical environments.

The sun drives our weather patterns. Here Peter taps into this solar-generated energy, transferred into a pressure cell forced-wind and captured in the belly of his sail.

The low tide revealed a nice landing area for a flotilla of kayaks.

In the shelter of a sandstone nook Tony and Peter conjured brunch from out of the bulkheads of their kayaks.

All smiles as the sun briefly breaks through for the return trip.

Heading back out into the Harbour to be greeted by a thunderous peeling right-hander at Middle Head.

As has been noted in an earlier post on this website, paddling on Sydney Harbour has an ancient indigenous history directly associated with survival - the catching of fish.

In accordance with this worthy pursuit, Tony caught the above two Tailor and Bonito from his kayak on today's passage. All of which were fed to his tribe ...

Another rewarding little adventure on Sydney Harbour.

Underwater garden

Beaching the kayak at Bradleys Head to snorkel amongst some of the harbour's residents ...

Moon Jellyfish

Swimming anemone

Coral-like sea sponge

A luminescent kelp.

A ballistic looking sea urchin.

A vibrant orange and green coloured resident of the garden.

A handful of shells from Sydney Harbour - including a small Abalone and a piece of Cowrie shell which are evidence of Sydney's temperate maritime climate. A blend of Coral Sea waters (delivered by the East Australian Current) and cooler southern seas when the EAC abates over winter.

Furneaux Group of Islands ...

... 10 months to go !

Headlands

This morning Peter undertook his favourite "Four Headed" tour of the Harbour's entrance ...

This area of the harbour is in constant motion as the Pacific Ocean and Port Jackson blend into each other under the gravitational pull of the moon, wrapping around the headlands and flowing in streams along the harbour's eastern and western channels.

As can be observed in these charts which document the maximum flood and ebb tidal speeds ...

Click on the above images for greater resolution.

Pete taking in the tidal flow at the Heads ...

"As the Manly ferry cuts its way to Circular Quay." (or vice versa)

King T gets nailed.

Tony's uncanny capacity to pick the biggest wave of the day ...

I slipped out for a short, lazy little potter from Camp Cove and out the heads ...
There was quite a big NE swell which was sending some really nice catchable swells along south head but further around and almost right into Lady Jane beach. Having taken a few long cruisy runners the set of the day walled up and I eagerly charged into it - as none of them had broken it seemed sensible enough, flying down the face in a nice straight line, only to find it quickly form up into a steeper and steeper wave which then resulted in a major nose dive, on a skewed angle, slowing the boat rapidly allowing the rest of the wave to catch up to me and break right on top of me. In the process I suspect I may have done close to a forward summersault resulting in me being dragged along upside down in front of the broken wave, trying to hold onto the paddle, stretched lengthways along the boat, there was no hope of getting two hands on the paddle let alone being able to get into position for an attempt at rolling.

So my thoughts soon turned to bailing out but once again holding the paddle and being dragged along made it difficult to reach forward for the skirt's rip cord. After 3 attempts and a few breaths from the upside-down kayak, I managed to get out, grab the boat just in time to try to hang onto it as the next broken wave pushed through – it's quite hard holding onto a boat full of water in a broken wave.

Anyway so then it was a matter of pumping and collecting reels, floating containers. The only loss was the hat!

So back to the beach for a few rolls and over the next half an hour let the water drain from all orifices.

So much for a lazy Sunday paddle. Another little learning experience which fortunately only resulted in a few minor cuts.

Sorry no footage of the event.

Argonauts

One of the shells that we may be fortunate to find in the Furneaux Group is from Argonauta nodosa - otherwise known as the Paper Nautilus.

This calcerous shell is secreted by the female pelagic octopus hiding her brood of eggs within.

They can be found along the west facing shores of the Furneaux Group.

In the open ocean Argonauta nodosa are commonly found attached to jellyfish, such as the Phyllorhiza punctata (White-Spotted Jellyfish) shown below ...

Image above from Tree of Life Web Project

This species of jellyfish is slightly different to the Catostylus mosaicus that we saw off Bondi last weekend.

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South to Wedding Cake Island

If there is one thing that Sydney kayaker's dream of it's an archipelago of islands lieing off our coast. This morning we sought out Sydney's single offshore island - more of an inshore reef really - as the half-way point in a paddle south from the Harbour.

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In the pre-dawn darkness Tony's first few paddle strokes were interrupted by an Australian Salmon.

Post - Equinox dawn.

Autumn has brought with it the morning westerlies, allowing us to sail on a reaching tack up and down Sydney's coastline.
Luke (above) and Tony (below) taking advantage of the westerly winds tumbling over the cliffs and streaming out to sea.


Heading slightly east of south, out to sea, to fill the belly of our sails.

Just south of Bondi the morning westerly abated and the sea's calm surface revealed an enormous and ponderous jelly fish pulsating its way through the suspended microscopic creatures of the East Australian Current ...

When life forms are found outside of our solar system they may look something like this beautiful creature.

Tony positioning himself to catch a wave peeling across Wedding Cake's reef.

With a light sou-wester filling in we were able to set sails again and lean our shoulders into the breeze for the journey back up along the sandstone cliffs to the Harbour.

Today's path.

The V-sail

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Some thoughts on how the shape of the V-sail could be improved ...

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How is the design of this sail different?

i. The top edge of the sail has a "swept profile" which I believe would better distribute the structural forces operating within the membrane of the sail to the masts, as compared to the current design which has a straight cut across the sail's top edge and concentrates the forces at the top of the sail into the corners.
As well as improving the engineering of the sail, this design change also gives the sail a more dynamic visual appearance.

As in nature, there is no such thing as a straight line, everything is composed of curves.

ii. The centre area of the sail is composed mostly of clear fabric to maximize the visibility through it.
When the sail is sheeted down to one side on a reaching tack the visibility through this sail is still optimised - unlike the current design which limits visibility during such a sail setting.

iii. All of the sail edges are composed of the opaque fabric and where the opaque fabric is seamed to the clear fabric this is done along a curve - again to give dynamic expression to the spread of membrane forces operating within the sail's surface.

This sketch describes how the view line is preserved throughout the various sail settings.

Autumn jaunt

A very gentle dawn at the Heads as we paddled into Sydney's autumn season.

Stretching legs at Wash-Away Beach.

Tony, Peter M, Luke, Al, Peter K and Tim.

Derek later joined us at the next bay around.

Despite the murky water from recent rain we took our chances with the sharks and snorkelled at Crater Cove.

The sea temperature is now a pleasant 22 to 23 degrees.

With salt water flooding into the housing of the supposedly water-proof Olympus 1030 camera this blurry photo was the last to be retrieved from the card's damaged memory. The obvious lesson is that electrical equipment and water do not mix.

There are a number of driftwood shacks tucked up above this cove that we briefly explored by foot before paddling back across the harbour to our various home ports.

This morning's trip was a pleasant stroll across the harbour.

Happy B'day King T

A spectacular sky saluted the last calendar day of Summer ...

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... as Tony and Luke cut across the apricot and plum-coloured harbour from Point Piper.

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Passing South Reef as Tony completes his 40th circumnavigation of the sun.

Between the Heads, an all too familiar local leapt onboard Luke's kayak.

At the start of this summer we had held high hopes of the East-Australian Current delivering us boat-loads of Kingfish. Instead we've found ourselves throwing Salmon back into the sea. Tony was the only one of us to be successful in landing a Kingfish off Sydney this summer.

Peter paddling before an autumn-like skyscape near North Head.

Approaching the Bower via the orange cliffs of Deep Cove.

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Three grainy videos of wave-catching at Fairy Bower.

Click on the play buttons below ...

Tony surfing into Shelly Beach.

Peter catches a nice wave.

Tony gets another one.

Shelly Beach Parking lot.

A stranded traveller blown ashore by the recent pattern of easterlies and nor-easterlies.

Exploring the sea gardens of Fairy Bower.

Clara's self-portrait. Snorkelling with Blue Groper.

King Tony finds a message in a bottle - courtesy of Capt. Pete.

The support crew convenes a harbour-side brunch to celebrate Tony's birthday.
Happy B'day King T.
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With the arrival of autumn, conditions will improve for sea-kayaking and the many preparations for the Furneaux Group of Islands can progress with increased focus.

~

Fireball dawn

With bushfires burning to the north of Sydney, this morning's dawn was coppery red and smoke-filled.

Derek (above) and Peter (below) paddling through the lumpy waters along the base of the Sphinxes on the way to Shelly Beach.

The sea surface temperature felt strangely cold this morning.

The satellite image below indicates the passage of the East Australian Current and the finger of cooler water that is being left behind along the coastal edge.

After an aborted snorkel at Shelly Beach (the water was too cloudy after many days of nor-easterly chop) we paddled back along the base of Sphinxes to the harbour.


Luke caught the first gentle currents of today's nor-easter as it streamed into the smokey harbour.

If there is such a thing as a Sydney kayaking season it probably begins in March and concludes in December. In these 10 months of the year the marine and atmospheric conditions are typically pretty pleasant for being out on the water within a fibreglass tube and rotating one's arms a few thousand times in succession. Whereas the months of January and February are often too hot and humid for this activity and are probably best spent making fishing lures under a shady tree and plotting other adventures.

Prospectus for a kayaking adventure through the Furneaux Group of Islands

The idea:
To paddle kayaks for about 10 days through the Furneaux Group of Islands, Tasmania.

The date:
Feb 2010

The philosophy:
To paddle throughout this stunning archipeligo without a particular end-destination in mind.
To pause where the conditions invite a longer stay.
To "read" the seascape and begin to understand at first hand its enormously strong tidal conditions.

The method:
To prepare with focus over the next twelve months.
To travel cost-effectively.
To drink Tasmanian Pinot Noir along the way.
To hunt and gather our own food - squid, abalone, crays and local fish.
To photograph and draw the sea and landscapes.
To camp on remote islands.
To search for the elusive Paper Shell Nautilus.
To support and take responsibility for one another.


The fine details:
To be resolved over the course of the next 12 months.

The Furneaux Group, Tasmania.

~

Kayaklings

With the south-east of Australia enjoying hot and stable conditions we packed up the kayaklings for a refreshing overnighter at The Basin - to introduce them to the complimentary arts of kayaking and camping.

. Clara, Ollie and Felix having a quick dip on the eastern shore of Pittwater while Tony packs up the kayaks.

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The Molnar-Freeman contingent cruising down-wind with a light nor'easter.

Felix and Luke pausing to cool off with fingers plunging into the water.

Our little campsite at The Basin.
Allegra and Pete had arrived earlier in the day in their Umiak (foreground).

The kayaklings modelling their pyjamas during a post-dinner amble along the shore.

(The kayaklings are: Ollie, Clara, Felix and Allegra.)

The kayaklings feasting on marshmellows back at the camp.

Waking up to a brilliant morning ...

"See, this is a hermit crab".

A visitor to the campsite.

Ollie navigating on the way home as the adventure comes to an all-too-soon-end.

Allegra and Clara take in the view while Pete propels the Umiak towards Palm Beach.

Back seat driver.

Zzzzzzzzzzzz.

It was a long trip home.

~

Farewell (for now) to Jules

With Julian about to undertake a 100-day trans-continental family road trip from Sydney to Perth, we convened a mid-week meeting at the Lord Nelson to sketch out our paddling plans for the weekend and table some ideas for the years ahead ...

Above: The destination for this weekend sketched out on a beer coaster - Shelly Beach

... and some destinations for the years ahead.

This morning's trip began in the pre-dawn darkness.

Tony and Luke cutting across the glossy black harbour from Point Piper to rendezvous with Jules at Chowder Bay and then out through the Heads.

Julian crossing the harbour's mouth as the sun erupts over the horizon.

Tony scything across the Harbour's glassy surface.

Luke keeping an eye on the eastern horizon.

Slipping along under the monumental strata of North Head ...

... and around to Fairy Bower.

Surfing into Shelly Beach.

Jules performing a roll.

And then into the sea garden we go.

Luke and Tony diving into the clear blue water of Shelly Beach.

A single-flippered Jules and our friend the Eastern Blue Groper study one another.

Jules' journey towards Western Australia begins here.

See ya !!

Kayaking continuum ...

Let's take a quick look at the ancient history of paddling on Sydney Harbour.

These few images sketch out the role that paddle craft served in the indigenous communities which inhabited Sydney Harbour preceeding British settlement.

It's interesting to see that on-board fires were apparently a common feature of the indigenous marine vessel. A nice way to keep the toes warm in winter and handy for cooking up the catch before getting home.

"Canoes were used for travelling around the Harbour and its tributaries as well as out beyond the Harbour heads.

Small bark paddles, called goinnia or narowang were about 60 - 90 cm long and were used to propel the canoes.

The canoes ranged in length from 2.5 - 6 m.
Canoes were an essential part of fishing, particularly for women who sat in them to fish, using hooks and lines.

Men either stood up in the canoes to throw fizz-gigs (spears) or laid across the canoes so they could see into the water.
A small fire was kept alight on a bed of clay or seaweed in the canoes. This kept everyone warm during cold weather and enabled them to cook fish while in the canoe.

No bark canoes from the Sydney region survive."

(Source: Australian Museum)

"The canoes in which they fish are as despicable as their huts, being nothing more than a large piece of bark tied up at both ends with vines. Their dexterous management of them, added to the swiftness with which they paddle and the boldness that leads them several miles in the open sea, are, nevertheless, highly deserving of admiration. A canoe is seldom seen without a fire in it, to dress the fish by as soon as caught." ( Captain Watkin Tench, 1788 )

Kayaking accoutrements.

Today: Tony upholding the fine tradition of paddling on Sydney Harbour.

Punching out through the shorebreak towards the Heads.

This beautiful mackerel with its spotted / opalescent skin was caught by Tony in "boiling" water off North Head.



The weathered faces of Sydney's sandstone cliffs have seen many paddlers come and go.

With the Nor-easter filling in, Tony sets his Polynesian-inspired sail while simultaneously trolling the mackeral for larger game.

" I wonder if I could light a fire on-board ?"

Broken Bay to Sydney Harbour (duo)

The aim of this morning's adventure was to paddle out from Broken Bay, set sails and catch the forecasted 20knot N-W breeze down to Sydney Harbour.

~

Ready to launch on the Pittwater side of Palm Beach.

Tony and Luke warily heading out of Broken Bay beneath an uncertain sky.

Barrenjoey sitting like a full stop on Sydney's north shore.

Setting sail as the dawn sun performs a good impression of moonlight.

Evolving cloud formations bridging the land and the sea.

Cruising southwards.

A crisp sail running before a stormy sky.

Silvery sea light.

Our new sails cutting a fine profile along the eastern horizon.

Tony and a sea eagle sharing the same air current.

With the strong winds not appearing this morning we drifted into Port Jackson to conclude our passage from Broken Bay.

~

May the adventures continue in 2009.

~

Tony under sail ...

Click on the Play button above.

The underwater world of The Oasis

Jules and Derek headed out from Little Manly at 07:00 for a leisurely outing in very calm seas and mild overcast weather.

Given a forecast southerly change by midday we decided to head south and stay close to shore. After a quick explore of North Head we headed south to The Gap in the hope of linking up with Tony and his kayak load of Kingfish.

No sign of Tony but conditions were perfect for a floated landing at The Oasis.

Water clarity was exceptional - the opportunity to explore The Oasis from below was too good to be missed.

Jules exploring the Oasis.

The water temperature had increased markedly in the past few days. Many school fishes were hiding amongst toppled boulders in the gentle swell and several blue gropers cruised the depths.

Jules and Derek exploring the blue depths.

Oasis kayak rack.

An enjoyable moring was completed with a few practice eskimo rolls back at Little Manly and coffee by the beach - hard to beat!

Last paddle of Spring.

This morning our aim was to head out to sea to lure a dozen Kingfish into our tuckerbox.

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A mountain range of clouds loomed over the eastern horizon as we paddled out past South Head.

Not waving, not drowning ... just stretching.

Having trolled Xmas tree lures down to Ben Buckler without any strikes, Tony decided to give the deep diver a run out to sea.

Heading out towards the eastern horizon with a 5 to 10 knot Sou-wester filling our sails.

The Impex getting some air.

Our new V-sails performed very well - allowing us to set and run lures while the kayaks made easy distance.

Some kayaking-puritans furrow their brows and turn up their noses at those of us who attach sails to our kayaks.

Well, unless these kayaking purists are casting their criticisms from the position of paddling kayaks constructed out of seal skins, beech wood frames and seal guts they should take a long look at themselves (and their carbon-fibre kayaks) and observe the irony of their views.

The Inuit fashioned their sea-craft out of the materials at their disposal to meet the needs of their survival. If cotton had been cultivated in Arctic latitudes the Inuit may well have sewn up sails too. Certainly the Melanesian and Polynesian inhabitants of the south-west Pacific were not adverse to mounting a wooden mast and a tapa cloth sail onto their marine craft - outrigger canoes included.

Besides, sailing is an enjoyable skill that over long distances can re-tune the paddle-numbed mind to the subtleties of aerodynamics and to the dynamic nature of atmospheric conditions.

On a port tack back towards the coastline.

The sea temperature off Sydney remains cool - 16 to 17 degrees. This is our excuse for not having caught any Kingies today.

Farewell to Spring.
Let's hope that Summer brings the East Australian Current closer to our coastline and with it the pelagic fish.

~

Cool change

Under sail in cool conditions on the harbour.

15 seconds after this calm photo was taken a 30 knot wall of cold air poured in from the WSW. Within a few seconds the harbour's surface turned white with chop and spray. In the mayhem the sails dragged the kayak sideways and over she went - with both sails up, the lure trolling somewhere out the back and me still holding on to the camera. Upside-down beneath the turmoil of white and green water, I had a moment to reflect on the sudden change in my circumstance and the puzzle of how to self-rescue while double-rigged.

It was relatively cold in the water.
The sea surface temperature is going the wrong way for this time of year.


And here's why ... the East Australian Current is kissing the coast at South-West Rocks and then, east of Forster, it's taking a detour out towards new Zealand.

King Tony

Having returned from Broughton Island with a Kingie under his belt, Tony finds that he is still in the groove.

Below is the sweet Kingie that Tony caught while kayaking below the Vaucluse cliffs this morning.

And then filleted into delicious mouthfuls of fresh sashimi and sushi ...

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Well done, King Tony!

~

Expedition Broughton Island

We are back from our adventure to Broughton Island.

See our trip report here:

http://expedition-broughton-island.blogspot.com/

Pittwater to Sydney Harbour (solo).

~

Tony's comments on his solo paddle today ...

~

Setting up at Pittwater. Being the maiden voyage with a sail there was anticipation of an adventure ahead.

After weaving between the congested moorings in search of the elusive Kingfish, the view opened up towards Broken Bay. Lion Island and the heads are in the middle distance. A slight head wind boding well for the opposite side of Barrenjoey and the passage down the coast.

Pulling in a tailor before leaving the shelter of Pittwater.

An old time traveller expires but its story lives on. This turtle's barnacle-encrusted carapice gives just an inkling of the life it has lived and the places it has travelled to.

Barrenjoey’s swirling sandstone cliffs flow by on the outgoing tide.

One last corner before the downwind leg and the sail can be hoisted.

Ah, the "Pacific Action" 1.5m sail is flipped into position and the instant lift of the tail breeze kicks in.


Leaving Barrenjoey behind and feeling good to be out at sea.

Under sail and making for the eastern horizon.

Barrenjoey disappearing over the stern. Feeling confident enough with the sail to troll the lure once again. Where are those Kingies ??

After sighting a whale and hundreds of Shearwaters, the sail and skeg positions were adjusted to head a few miles further offshore. Wind starting to pick up.

Something unidentified passing beneath the kayak's hull.

North Head and the Sphinxes in view. Wind picked up, south east swell bouncing off cliffs, a swirling wind and the rebound chop made the passage towards the Heads very fickle and generated numerous wobbly moments. There was no oppportunity for photographing along here.

In through the Heads. Tacking sail for the first time since Barrenjoey and after 30 kms leaning one way a bit of adjustment was needed to keep the kayak level.

A little sail in a big land and sea-scape.

A large wind shadow under North Head.

Cruising ..

... near South Head.

Waving to the welcoming party.

Almost home.

Drifting into Camp Cove.

Still water.

To think that skinny boat can take you so far. Approx 4 hours and, thanks to the sail, plenty of energy left. Can’t wait to get out there again.

Above: The overall GPS record of Tony's solo adventure

(yellow line with dots).

Distance travelled = 37 kilometres.

Above: Start location at Pittwater.

Above: Passing Long Reef.


Above: Through the Heads to finish at Camp Cove.

Well done, Tony.

Night fishing.

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Paddling into a summery nor-easter at twilight.

Aaaaah, this is the life.

Settling in with a couple of beers in the lee of Chowder Bay.

Tony (wearing a white head lamp) trolling his lure in front of a 200,000 tonne container ship as the night descends.

A close-up view of Tony with his head-lamp switched on. Vaucluse is the crazy electronic cacophony in the background.

The only thing that we caught all night was this beautiful blue-eyed Port Jackson shark pup. After carefully releasing him from the hook we returned him to his Chowder Bay hunting ground.

Tony paddling across the black harbour. The night sky streaked with the light of a million distant suns and two close planets.

The city nightscape performing its own multi-coloured neon light show.

~

Sculpture ON the sea

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Sunrise at South Head.

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Moon setting at the Gap.

Cliff shadow.

Sea cave.

Rock Garden.

Pausing to look back at our path.

Sea egg.

With the sun climbing high and the Nor-easter filling in we concluded today's southerly passage at Tamarama and then began our paddle back towards the harbour.

Rock Garden.

All uphill - Tony and Peter paddling against a lifting headwind and an energy-sapping sea current.

Rob Mercer sagely observing our return to the Harbour.

The one that didn't get away - an Australian Salmon caught on a Xmas Tree lure down towards the Rock Garden.

The fish fillets from which have subsequently been blended with Thai curry paste, coriander, garlic, a little peanut oil and lime juice ...

... and eaten with chilli jam.

North to Shelly Beach

Paddling towards the rising sun.

Pleased to be back on the water.

Tony, Peter and Luke paddling in to Salmon Cove ...

... alongside Spring Canyon, ...

... and then around the corner to Shelly Beach.

Shelly Beach from above ...

...and below.

Port Jackson Shark (Heterodontus portusjacksoni)

Eastern Blue Groper (Achoerodus-viridis)

Back into the kayaks ...

... and out past the Bower.

An eruption of fish off North Head with hundreds of Shearwater birds getting amongst the action.

The one that got away.

An early paddle before Daylight Saving returns ...

4.55am on the harbour.

Phosphoresence.

Pre-dawn cityscape.

The first Tailor of the season.

This morning's air was thick with the smell of bush-fire smoke.

Hence the bronze light.

Fireball dawn.

The Harbour's surface looking like beaten copper.

Spring paddle to Spring Canyon

All this week in the minutes before dawn the harbour's surface has been like liquid mercury.

A sea eagle riding the morning's first air current as it disturbs the harbour's surface and lifts over the cliffs.

Peter and Luke paddling towards North Head.

For a few prescious moments before true dawn the cliffs are illuminated from an angle just below the horizontal and the underside of the rock ledges are exposed to direct sunlight, casting their shadows just slightly upwards. With the relentless rotation of the earth this magical moment slips past in seconds and is then gone for another day.

Peter paddling into Salmon Cove as the cliffs dissolve from russetty red to pale yellow.

Peter preparing to ride a small wave onto the rock platform ...

... at the base of Spring Canyon.

Scrambling up through the quarry-like gap that forms the canyon.

The two darker zones of sea surface in the middle distance are eruptions of Salmon chasing bait fish which are in turn being circled and plundered by hordes of sea gulls.

A small water spring is filtering through the canyon, supporting colonies of mosses and ferns.

A striking orange-coloured lichen thriving on the north-east facing rock surfaces and within a horizontal band of about two metres above the high tide level.

A large rock pool colonised by Cray Weed.

Peter paddling off the rock platform ...

... and around to Shelly Beach where Peter's wife Diana met us for a snorkel through the bay.

The water visibility was not great (due to the turbulence from breaking waves perhaps). We saw two medium-sized Gropers, a Parrot Fish, a single Flat Head and a couple of rays.

~

Peter and Luke paddling back around North Head to the Harbour.

An interesting little cove and series of cantilevering rock shelves just inside the Heads that we will explore another day.

Island hopping ~ Part II

On the water early this morning to complete the eastern harbour island hopping initiated earlier this week ...

A bluey-black harbour-scape at 5.00am.

Phosphorescence on the harbour's surface - a sure sign of the water temperature rising.

As you can see from the on-board thermo-sensor below ...

Clarke Island off to the port side.

Pinchgut / Fort Denison.

The harbour's surface like mercury.

The sun climbing over Vaucluse ...

... and striking perhaps the most beautiful building of the 20th Century.

Sydney Rock Oysters hanging onto the skirt of the Opera House.

Paddling homewards at 6.15am.

Where is everybody else ?

Eastern Horizon from 1000m

This photo captures 10 of the 11 islands in Sydney Harbour.

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Moving from the far distance forwards (Eora names in brackets) :

1. Bottle and Glass Island. (Mor-ing)

2. Shark Island. (Boambilly)

3. Clarke Island. (Billong-ololah)

4. Garden Island. (Ba-ing-hoe)

5. Pinchgut / Fort Denison (Mat-te-wan-ye)

6. Goat Island. (Me-mil)

7. Berry Island. (Eora name unknown)

8. Cockatoo Island. (Wa-rea-mah)

9. Spectacle Island. (Gong-ul)

10. Snapper Island. (Ar-ra-re-agon)

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and not visible to the right of frame:

11. Rodd Island (Eora name unknown).

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There is a nice kayak trip to be had in paddling to all of these islands within one day.

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Return to the sea.

A drawing by Clara of her Dadda Tony pondering when he will be able to return to the sea on his kayak to catch Kingfish for the barbie...

Spring Equinox

An attempt to paddle to all of the significant reefs, rock outcrops and true islands east of the Harbour Bridge before submitting to a day at the desk ...

A half-moon start to the day.

Spring Equinox sunrise over Watson's Bay.

Sow & Pigs Reef.

Wave breaking across Sow & Pigs.

Bottle & Glass Island.

Bottle & Glass Island reflection.

Bill's Quiff.

The Three Brothers.

Little Brother

Big Brother.

Shark Island from the east.

Shark Island from the west.

Clarke Island.

Clarke Island.

Garden Island and Pinchgut were out of reach on this attempt.

Solo to Shelly Beach

With Tony still recuperating from his cranial surgery, Jules cleaning the bull dust out of his tent, and Luke having a good sleep-in, Pete took off around North Head by himself ...

~

"A beautiful Morning's solo paddle.
Conditions near perfect with light northerly breezes, low swell and slight chop. The harbour was calm and glistening, but the open ocean was (as always) more interesting. "

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Rounded North Head before 8.00am to find the usual refracted swell and a glorious panorama up and down the Coast.

Had a few great runs down the face of a nice clean break into Shelly Beach on a low tide, then called in for a short break.

Pete in his backyard.

Cruised along the Cliffs back to the North Head, took my last glimpse down towards Bondi then with city mistily in the distance turned the corner at North Head and cruised back to Little Manly.

Solo to South Solitary

From time to time this web-site will explore coastlines beyond our home of Sydney Harbour.
This week Luke visited the Solitary Islands Marine Reserve, north-east of Coffs Harbour.
Unfortunately this trip was not blessed by spring sunshine - instead the sky was heavy with grey clouds blown up by an overnight southerly change. This coastline is very beautiful and the gloomy images recorded below do not represent it well.

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Arriving at Moonee Beach for a 5.30am. South Solitary island is the series of dark grey humps 12 kms away on the eastern horizon.

A coppery-red sun briefly emerged over the crest of South Solitary Island before I had set up my kayak. All too quickly the sun disappeared behind blankets of cloud.

Gently floating seaward with the assistance of an ebb tide through the Moonee Beach tidal lagoon.

Having made it through the shore-break this was the view to starboard: "Split Solitary Island" is the flat-topped island about 4kms away to the south. The mountains to the right are behind Coffs Harbour.

This was the view straight ahead to "South Solitary Island" bearing 11.5kms due east.

And this was the view to the port side. "South West Solitary Island" is the small island 7 kms to the north-east.

Although it was not necesary to find "South Solitary" with a GPS, it was handy to know when I had got beyond the Fishing Sanctuary Zone which extends about 5kms out to sea. At this point I was able to throw the lure over the side.

Two hump-back whales travelling southwards passed between me and South Solitary Island exhausting their distinctive spray into the air. This grainy photo was the best image that I caught of them. You may just be able to make out the distinctive black dorsal fin on the crest / horizon of the lump to the right.

I was hoping to see turtles on this trip but I didn't glimpse any. There were many Shearwaters, a pair of Albatross and numerous flying fish skipping along.

Under sail in 8 to 10 knots of southerly about 3.5kms from the island.

Closing in on "South Solitary" with its distinctive white lighthouse and two keeper's cottages.

The mainland fading to a ribbon of grey between shades of grey sky and grey sea.

Note the breaking wave over my shoulder. There were quite a few of these little rogue waves to look out for.

South Solitary Island appears to be a rather bleak looking wind-swept series of basalt humps. This is deceptive as below the sea's surface the island supports a very rich temperate / sub-tropical marine life including large colonies of Grey Nurse sharks.

"VMR Coffs Harbour this is Icarus reporting my current position at the southern end of South Solitary Island. Over"

I imagine that the Irish Sea must look something like this.

On the south east side of South Solitary is a "sea arch".

The sea current was converging here and forcing a river of water through the channel beneath the arch. At this point my kayak was shunted quite suddenly and horizontally towards one of the arch buttresses.

Lining up the kayak's nose for a bolt through the arch. With another set of waves forming behind me this was the time to go. I paddled quickly into the gap but half-way through the tunnel a surging wall of water caught up with me and broke across my kayak's stern and carried forward across the bow - sweeping my (not properly secured) fishing reel and lure away. There goes yet another lure.

Phew, made it! Note the next surge of water pouring through the arch about a metre higher than the surrounding sea surface.

South Solitary Island is actually three or four lumps of basalt. This is a view looking through the two larger islands back towards the mainland. Note the nasty sharp little waves here. The water was quite confused at this point and paddling was tricky.

Warily heading back towards the coast ...

... only about 11 kms to go.

Safely back in the lagoon at Moonee Beach.:

"Never go out to sea with less than three". This is the sea-kayaker's traditional maxim of cautiousness. Although I took the precaution of advising people of my whereabouts (including regularly radioing in my position to the Volunteer Marine Radio service based in Coffs Harbour) this trip was a little on the dangerous side. Besides safety, it is not nearly as enjoyable paddling without others to share the adventure with.

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Farewell to Winter

Just after 5am and the sky is beginning to lighten. The specks of light are on fishing boats heading out to sea.

Peter and Luke paddling towards North Head in the pre-dawn light.

(Jules is away exploring the western deserts with his family. Tony is taking a short break to adjust the valves in his diving equipment)

The cliffs of Vaucluse taking on a russety glow.

A sequence of overlapping Heads.